The Time of Ravens
by nickahontas
Summary: A girl crashes into Flitwick's 1977 NEWT level charms class, clutching a dead body to her chest. Who is Holly Potter? Why does she look so much like James? And why does she reek of dark magic? Dumbledore and two advisors travel into the Pensieve and witness a life of family and war. (Harry has a Ravenclaw twin. Pairings change as the characters grow. Not too much bashing.)
1. Chapter 1

It was a boring charms lecture by all accounts. Flitwick wasn't a bad Professor and the subject was never disinteresting. It was only that the weather was simply too pleasant to enjoy anything else. Even the professor found it difficult to focus on such a beautiful Friday. He didn't care for the Quidditch pitch like James Potter fantasized about. He didn't yearn for a lazy day by the lake like Sirius Black did. Filius would much rather discuss his seventh years' thesis projects in a quiet courtyard. Perhaps help a few children experiment with their spellcasting.

A beautiful girl with auburn hair studied the enchanted windows with a wistful expression. She'd already perfected the Protean charm her fifth year and would much rather work on creating her own enchanted windows. Flitwick would be more than happy to teach her, she knew.

A loud crash jerked the class out of their daydreams.

Several chairs near the front toppled sideways as a two dark figures materialized in the classroom. A pretty girl with long black braids clutched a boy to her chest. Both of them were drenched in blood.

The class stood in shocked silence for all of two heartbeats before Flitwick bellowed for them to leave, yelled for Lily to fetch the headmaster. The class halted their evacuation long enough to clear a path for the girl with auburn hair.

Three students did not obey. One, a tall young man with sandy hair and eyes too old for his face, took up guard behind his professor. He stared at the girl curiously as he listened for any more intruders. She was dressed in strange muggle clothing. Pale, bloody skin showed through rips in her tight pants and shirt. A green potion dangled from a belt. A long knife was secured on her thigh. The boy wore wizard robes. Though they didn't bare a Hogwarts crest, Remus Lupin assumed he was a Slytherin by the emerald sleeves and lining.

"Move, girl!" Flitwick ordered, already casting healing charms on the boy.

It was too late. James Potter knew it was too late. The boy was already dead. But James Potter couldn't bring himself to care about the lifeless boy that had crashed into their classroom. He couldn't stop looking at the girl. If you looked past the dirt and the blood and the bruises, it was very much like looking at a female version of James Potter. He couldn't look away from the strange mirror of himself.

Beside James, Sirius Black found he could not look away either. She looked too much like Prongs for it to be coincidental. He knew that in his bones and Sirius Black trusted his intuition. It was because of that heavy feeling in his gut that he cursed when James inched forward.

"Hello," James said softly, kneeling down in the boy's blood.

She looked up. The professor and the marauders blanched at the look in her eyes. They were empty and alight with fiendfyre at the same time. She seemed to look past him, far beyond the castle walls to only something she could see. There was a term for it in gobbledegook that roughly translated to 'the thousand yard stare'.

"Hello," James tried again. "Is he your friend?"

She turned those eyes on to him. Lily's eyes, he realized.

"Is that your friend?"

He didn't expect her to speak, so he was surprised and oddly relieved when she spoke in a rough voice.

"Brother."

James nodded knowingly. "I have friends that are like brothers too. Could you let go? So we can take care of him? I'll treat him like my own brothers, I promise."

She clutched the body closer, shaking her head vehemently.

James slid forward in the blood. Sirius muttered a curse.

"Don't!" He warned. "She reeks of dark magic."

The girl looked up sharply and something flashed in her eyes. Something almost human.

"Siri," she breathed.

The door slammed open. Neither Professor Flitwick nor Remus Lupin rose their wands. Neither were wholly human and had differentiated between the footsteps of the staff long ago- for very different reasons.

Albus Dumbledore thundered through in vivid paisley robes. Lily Evans was on his heels (No one had told her to leave, so she didn't see the harm in staying.). He took in the scene without faltering his furious pace. He drew up short beside James, peering into the girl's face as she and Sirius stared at one another. Dumbledore squatted next to the teenagers with a spryness unexpected of his age. He held a vial of clear liquid out.

"Do you know what this-?"

She ripped the bottle from his hands, uncorked it with her teeth, spat the cork out into the floor, and downed enough Veritaserum for the whole of Gryffindor house. The haunted light in her eyes dimmed to a glossy vacancy. She uttered a little sigh of relief.

"Everyone out. Fili-"

"No." The girl interrupted in a dull voice. "I need Sirius and Moony to believe me."

Dumbledore's grey eyebrows rose. "Very well. Do you know who we all are?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Yes."

"How did you come to be here?"

"A blood ritual created by the Babylonians. Luna found it and was killed for it, but she got the instructions to us. Theodore and I made it." Her hands clawed into the body clutched to her chest.

"If you release Theodore, I swear that we will take the utmost care of him."

The girl's lips pulled down. "I don't trust you."

Dumbledore took in a sharp breath at that. He peered into the girl's dead, familiar eyes, and forced his way into her mind. He could only find a vast starry sky. The more he tried to search between the stars and peel them back to reveal their secrets, the more stars appeared. They twinkled brightly, flashing annoying light at his psyche.

For such a young girl to have such astounding occlumency shields! And overdosed on veritaserum as well! Though really he could expect nothing less of a Ravenclaw. It was obvious with the - admittedly fabulous- holographic boots, her navy shirt, and the form of her shields. He had never seen the girl, however, and she bore such a strong resemblance to Mister Potter...

Remus Lupin interrupted Dumbledore's thoughts when he dropped to one knee beside the girl. Blood seeped into his patched trousers.

"Hello," he said in a soft, conversational tone. "What is your name?"

"My name is Holly Marie Potter."

Remus glanced at his friend, who had gone very still. He cleared his throat to compose himself.

"And this is Theodore, yes?"

She nodded.

"Do you trust me when I say that Professor Flitwick will protect and care for Theodore until you are able?"

Her brows furrowed but eventually, she let the boy fall. The charms professor immediately began casting spells. The girl watched the body vanished under a sheet with a blank stare.

"What did the ritual do?" Dumbledore demanded.

"It sent me here."

"And where is here?"

"The old charms classroom on the third floor."

Lily Evans noticed the word choice and sucked in a breath. Dumbledore silenced her with a glare.

"_When_ is here?" He asked.

"I don't know exactly." The girl said in that dull, drugged way. She did not even notice that the professor had left with her friend's corpse. "We aimed to go back twenty two years. Sirius is alive and young, so I must be close."

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged with every word she spoke. "The year is 1977. Is this the year you meant to travel to?"

"Yes," She confirmed with a happy sigh.

"Why?"

"Voldemort won the war. The last of us put it to a vote. Sirius was the only one to veto the idea, but then he would rather the world end than put Harry or I through anything else. He's rather selfish that way."

"Who is Harry?" Remus asked, just as Dumbledore said, "Tell me how we lost the war."

"Harry is my twin," the girl answered. Then, without any hesitation, she barreled into an answer for the Headmaster. "There was-"

"ENOUGH!"

James Potter glowered down at the girl drugged out of her right mind and covered in the blood of her brother.

"Am I right in assuming that you are my daughter?"

"Mr. Potter, this is most unwise."

James ignored his headmaster, his stubborn gaze set on the mysterious Potter girl.

"Yes," she affirmed.

He nodded stiffly. "Right. Then as her father, I demand this questioning stop."

The room was silent. Sirius, a string of curse words flying through his mind, re-positioned his wand so that it aimed at Dumbledore. Remus, who was thinking rather the same sort of thoughts, shuffled around so that the girl was behind him. Lily Evans gaped at all three of them.

The door was thrown open. Flitwick reappeared with a plump elderly witch and a fat bald wizard. The witch, who took in the room with a very impressive scowl, immediately began waving her wand over the girl and berating everyone in the room. She declared to be particularly upset with Lily and Remus for not having more sense. Lily blushed, but Remus did not move from his protective position.

"Slughorn," the woman went on. "I'll need a veritaserum antidote or a bezoar brought to the hospital wing. If we're lucky her body will treat it as poison. Filius, Lily, be so kind as to clear the halls for me. There, there, Remus, you know I'll sort this all out. Good. Oh, dear..."

She glanced from the girl, over her shoulder at James, and back again.

"I might have known a Potter would be involved. Does she have a name?"

"Holly Marie Potter," Holly answered promptly.

"Do you have any fatal injuries?"

"I don't know."

The healer rolled her eyes. "Can you make it to the hospital wing?"

Holly frowned. She grabbed on to Remus's shoulder to haul herself up. Her legs trembled and her head swam. He stood, wrapping his arm around her waist to support her weight. James whispered something to Sirius before rushing over to help.

"Very well. Let's go."

The strange motley exited the classroom. Everyone was too preoccupied to notice Sirius break away from their parade or notice Dumbledore double back into the classroom. He cast every charm he knew over the area where the girl had appeared. There were no answers to be settle his conscious; only slick blood and the foulness of dark magic.


	2. Chapter 2

Euphemia Potter glared at her husband. She'd told him a thousand times not to go potioneering. The morning tea leaves had warned of something dreadful. She'd told him to be prepared, to keep his wand at hand and stay dressed. As it was, when Sirius Black barreled through the front door, Fleamont Potter had to take five minutes to stabilize his latest experiment before he could find his way to the kitchen.

Worse, they hadn't had the time to prepare for their visit to Hogwarts. Monty was still in his splotchy, stained lab robes. He looked terribly out of place in the pristine medical ward. By the sound of things, a confrontation with Dumbledore was inevitable and she'd rather not do it with her husband in such a disheveled state.

"And you!" She snapped at Sirius, who was creeping back to the doors. "Where do you think you're going?"

He blanched. "I didn't want to-"

"For Merlin's sake! Pray tell how one intrudes on their own family?!"

"Mum!" James cried, popping out from behind a curtained bed. He rushed to gather his mother in his arms. "I'm so glad you're here. She's asleep, but she isn't well."

"Who, dear? Sirius hasn't explained. He's only said you were safe but needed us at the castle immediately. "

"It's not easy to explain." Sirius mumbled.

"Well..." James broke off, his gaze wandering back to where a girl must be sleeping.

"Oh!" Monty exclaimed. "Will there be a baby in the family?"

The blood drained from Euphemia's face at James's speechlessness. James was never speechless. He was just as loud and boisterous as his father.

"No!" He finally said. And then, just as her heart started back up, he caused it to stop again. "Well, yes technically, but...damnit Mum, don't look at me like that! It's best if you see for yourself."

Monty cast a wide eyed glance at her. She couldn't bring herself to reply. Instead, she steeled herself-she was a Slytherin, not a reckless Gryffindor- and followed her son through the white drapes.

The small area was heavily warded for privacy. The Matron had also cast darkening charms, giving the curtained room a somber effect. It put her in mind of a funeral.

"Crone's tits!" Monty cursed.

"Fleamont Potter!" Euphemism chastised.

Her husband didn't pay her a bit of attention. His entire being was focused on the girl in the bed.

Euphemia couldn't curse. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. _Technically_, James had said. He had _technically_ impregnated someone. And Sirius had been ranting about time travel. She hadn't believed it, not really. To say her sons were dramatic would be a gross understatement.

The girl completed the funeral visage. She was filthy and cut and scarred and looked to be mostly dead, but she was undeniably a Potter. Undeniably James. That wild black hair, the thin face, Euphemia's own long Flint nose. Undeniably, utterly James.

"She's beautiful," Monty murmured.

He reached to brush her wild hair back. They all startled as she jerked upright. She fumbled in the sheets, knocked the flower off the bedside table, and when she still couldn't find her wand, she ripped the covers off. Her breathing grew panicked, vivid green eyes widening as she scratched at the bare skin of her calf.

"Holly!" James cried.

He glanced at his parents for help. Euphemia rolled up her sleeves to get to work. Healthcare was not her forte, but until James fetched Madam Wilkins, there was nothing to be done.

Nothing, it seemed, except Sirius Black.

He squeezed through and sat gingerly on the bed.

"Holly," he said softly. "Enough. You don't need your wand."

Euphemia gasped and took a step back at the look in the girl's eyes. They were empty. So dead and yet burning. On fire with mad fervor. This girl, her granddaughter out of time, was as mad as a loon.

"No." Holly croaked. She scrambled back against the headboard. "You're not him. You're not Sirius."

"Holly!" Sirius said, more sternly this time. "You need to rest! I'll watch over you. We all will."

She looked over his shoulder at the three of them. Her eyes darted from one face to the next, lingering on James the longest. The fear melted into despair and her entire body seemed to melt into itself.

"It worked. It worked. They're all dead. Theo. I killed-" she choked on a sob, her pale face streaked with tears. "He's dead. They're all dead. It worked. I didn't want it to work but it had to work. Harry, Sirius! Harry and Theo. My brothers are dead. I'll never see any of them again. Why did it work? I wanted it to kill me too. Why can't it have kill-"

"Shhhh, shhh." He wrapped his arms around the girl's bony shoulders. She collapsed into him, her sobs dissolving into screams. hat scream was the scream of mothers, of soldiers on a battlefield. The hairs raised on Euphemia's arm.

"Shhhh. It's alright. I've got you. I've got you," Sirius mumbled.

He glanced imploringly over his shoulder. Euphemia turned to her husband, but Monty was already gone.

The curtains opened and Dumbledore strode through. He towered over them all, his pointed wizard's hat only adding to the effect. He raised a hand at James's angry expression.

"I give you my word I am only here to help," Dumbledore said, his face set into grim lines.

He pulled a small bottle out of his sleeve. "I had hoped Fleamont was with you-"

"Here I am," Monty called cheerfully. He carried a steaming goblet that clouded everyone's vision.

"Ah, excellent. Can you confirm that this is the Draught of Peace?" The headmaster asked.

Fleamont traded potions, holding Dumbledore's vial close to better examine it. He shook it hard. Silver specks floated in the cloudy liquid like snow.

"It is as you say." Fleamont considered the patient. "Has she consumed anything other than Veritaserum, the bezoar, and the sleeping potion?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"The combination may make her sluggish for a few days, but perhaps that's for the best." He eyed her manic grip on Sirius warily.

"I understand she needs her rest," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I do not want to question her thoroughly. I only wish to ask her a few crucial questions before we give her your sleeping draught. I daresay she will sleep for two days after taking this. Is it wise, Fleamont? She's rather thin."

"I can't sleep." The girl interjected. She took deep, shuddering breaths between each word. "I see them all."

"This is-"

"The Elixir of Abeyance. Commonly known as Forty Winks."

Dumbledore's brows rose. "Indeed. Am I correct in deducing that you were a Ravenclaw?"

"The hat didn't even..." she broke off, staring at a spot over the headmaster's shoulder.

Suddenly, her gaze snapped to Dumbledore's with surprising clarity.

"Do you have the Pensieve yet?"

Dumbledore's brows rose even higher. "It belongs to Hogwarts."

"Take it. Take everything."

"You know it doesn't work that way," he said softly.

"You need to see. And James. Or whoever he wants. Siriu-" She went back to studying that spot above the headmaster's shoulder. It took her a long while to sort through her thoughts. "Regulus Black will die betraying Voldemort within three years. If he sees everything, he might not have to betray him. He might not have to die."

Sirius sucked in a breath. "What?! Reggie-"

Euphemia caught James's attention and after one quick gesture, Sirius was ushered out. The headmaster immediately took advantage of their absence.

"Who is your mother?" He asked.

"Lily Potter."

His beard twitched as he hid a smile. "Would you like her to come into the pensieve as well?"

"No. I want..." Her eyes welled up with tears. Fleamont shuffled forward to squeeze her hand.

"I want to give Regulus a chance. I do. He died betraying Voldemort. But Snape..." Her green eyes, Lily's eyes, bore into Dumbledore's so deeply that he found himself checking his occlumency shields. "Severus Snape is the best wizard of our age. He's a better man than you or me. We need him."

Euphemia glanced from her granddaughter to Dumbledore. She didn't recognize the name. "Who is Severus Snape?"

"A death eater," Dumbledore answered softly.

Euphemia inhaled sharply.

"Can't we save them both?" Fleamont asked.

"It isn't just about saving them," Euphemia guessed. "It's about recruiting them."

She shared a look with her granddaughter, a look that a soldier shares with another, a look a parent shares with another. It was a look shared between equals.

"I can give you a memory. I'll give them all to you, but I've got one..." She let out a shuddering breath. "I've got one that will get their attention."

"Very well. I will take the boys-"

Holly straightened in her bed. "No. Not just you. Your arrogance killed everyone I know. I won't let it happen again. I will _kill you_ before I let it happen again. Do you understand me?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes cut into hers sharply. Euphemia wasn't a legilimens, but she knew what it looked like.

"I will do it," Euphemia cut in. "I came here expecting to confront the headmaster on James's behalf. I will not be cowed. I can relay everything to my family as well."

Holly broke eye contact with the headmaster to study her grandmother. They had the same nose, the slim build, but they did not look alike. Still, they seemed to understand one another on some base level, because Holly nodded her acquiescence.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Would you like to wait until the potion takes affect?"

"No. Let's get it over with."

She held out a shaky hand. The steaming liquid sloshed around, but she drained it in one gulp. Dumbledore conjured a vial and bent over the girl. She tensed when he held his wand to her temple. A silvery stream of light followed the wand as it receded. The process was repeated several times. The girl's eyes began to droop closed.

"This should get us through the next few days," he said quietly. "Come, Euphemia. We have a war ahead of us."


	3. Chapter 3

Luck was on their side. The sixth year Slytherins were in a Arithmancy lecture, not too far from the Headmaster's tower. A young man with dark hair entered proudly in an attempt to hide his nerves. It would have worked if he hadn't staggered at the sight of Euphemia.

"Sirius?" He asked.

"Your brother is fine, Mr. Black. Please, sit. You are here for an entirely different matter."

He hesitated, but obeyed all the same. Dumbledore had opted for a cluster of seats around the mantle instead of the more formal setting of his desk. Regulus, to Euphemia's surprise, sat next to her on the velvet loveseat. She had only met him once before and then only in passing. He, she thought rather cruelly- looked like a poor copy of Sirius. He had the same molten silver eyes and full lips, but his hair didn't gleam and his frame was too lanky to inspire heartbreak.

"We must wait for one other guest before we may begin. In the meantime, I would like to commend you on your flying last Saturday."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore really should have been in Slytherin, the manipulative bastard that he was. Nonetheless, Euphemia didn't have a better plan, so she donned a smile for her role.

"I can't say I miss school, but I do yearn for the quidditch pitch. I was the seeker for Slytherin, you know," she said.

"I didn't, actually," Regulus admitted.

"My mother hated it, of course. She said no respectable pureblood would marry an athlete. Terrible logic. It was the reason several men courted me."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I do love your story with Fleamont. Do you know it, Mr. Black?"

"I can't say I've had the pleasure."

She didn't miss the faint sarcasm in his tone.

"Oh, he doesn't care about that, Dumbledore. I'll just say that I fell in love with him the moment he bested me in a duel. He was the only other student in the school who could".

"Really?" Regulus asked, his brows raised high.

"Really. We still duel every Thursday."

"What's the running score?" Dumbledore asked.

"Eight hundred and twenty-one to nine hundred and sixty-seven. Fleamont in the lead, unfortunately."

The door opened a second time. Euphemia found "the best wizard of the age" rather disappointing. Severus Snape didn't seem to have any sense of hygiene. He was an underfed hooked nosed boy with beady black eyes that darted to everyone in the room like a cornered rat.

"Ah, Mr. Snape. Please, join us. You know Mr. Black, of course."

Snape shared a stiff nod with Regulus, his eyes as fathomless and piercing as the night sky. His mouth curled up involuntarily when he met Euphemia's gaze. She did not let him get away with it. He eventually conceded in her -admittedly petty- staring contest, using settling himself into the remaining chair as an excuse. He looked ridiculously out of place in something so comfortable.

Dumbledore as if they were gathered to share their summer exploits over tea and a pensieve. Fleamont pulled off the dottering fool facade much better than the headmaster, in her opinion.

"Gentlemen, I have a proposition to make before I introduce our guest. The subject of our discussion has made it very clear that the four of us are here as equals. As such, I propose that we use our given names. Is that acceptable?"

Euphemia nodded. Severus did too, though far more hesitantly. Regulus was the only one brave enough to speak.

"Yes, sir. Only...what is this discussion?"

She rather approved of his cautious behavior. One never went entered with their guns a-blazin', as Monty liked to say. As much as she hated his American western films, she suspected that she would miss being bored enough to suffer through them soon enough.

"In good time. Severus, this is Euphemia Potter, James's- ah yes, of course, Euphemia, -and Sirius's, mother. We were just discussing how Euphemia was a seeker for Slytherin and the second-best dueler in school during her time at Hogwarts."

Severus deferred to her with more respect upon hearing her credentials. Euphemia, however, did not care for pleasantries. She didn't marry Fleamont for the sole reason of falling iin love with him. She married him because she had no intention of pretending to be a genteel lady. The old pureblood protocols had been ingrained in her since she toddled through her father's dilapidated mansion. She simply chose to ignore them. The Flints weren't as important as the Malfoys or the Blacks and the Potters hadn't cared for generations.

"I am aware of the relationship you both have with my sons," she began. "I know my sons very well. They are not cowering innocents, as I'm sure are neither of you. These meetings, if you agree to them, are more important than our personal grudges. I expect you to behave like the adults you are."

Both boys blinked twice before chorusing "Yes, ma'am."

"Make no mistake. I may be an old woman, but like Albus, the only reason I haven't carved out a throne for myself at the Ministry is that I can't be bothered. It would not be in your best interests to underestimate me. Is that understood."

"Yes, ma'am," they repeated.

"Euphemia, please refrain from terrorizing my students." His time was kind, fleeting even, but there was a hardness to the set of his shoulders.

She countered with a winning smile. "Oh, but Albus, we are here as equals, are we not?"

He chuckled. "I must say it is refreshing to be surrounded by Slytherins. Most people forget that Grindelwald was my closest friend before fate set us on separate paths."

The boys shifted in their seats, unbelieving that Dumbledore, the paragon of light, had been close friends with one of the most feared dark wizards of the century.

"Indeed, we were very, very close, he and I. I mourn his loss every day. It is my hope that our discussion will save us all more grief. You see, we are here to speak about the man you know as Lord Voldemort."

Regulus stiffened, not daring to even breathe. Snape's hand went to his wand.

Dumbledore held up his own hand for peace.

"If you agree to these meetings, you must undergo an Unbreakable Vow that will prevent you from communicating anything you see or hear to Voldemort or any of his sympathizers. If you choose not to participate, I will remove your memory of this discussion and send you on to class."

Regulus stared at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. Orion Black had had some sense, but he was dead and had rolled over for his wife when he was alive. Walburga was as useful as a flobberworm. No, in fact, flobberworms were more useful than Walburga Black. The legacy of the Black family rested on Regulus' shoulders.

"I agree, sir," he finally said, his voice breaking.

"Severus?" Albus demanded.

Snape did not budge. He did not release his wand. He stood, a silent shade of the wizard he would one day become.

Dumbledore tried again. "Severus, I have a memory for us all to review. If after you see it, you still do not agree, I will remove this memory so completely that Tom will never find it. Will you at least see the memory?"

His eyes darted to the pensieve on the coffee table, to Regulus, and to Dumbledore. Something, perhaps his curiosity, or maybe the arrogance that he could outwit Dumbledore, changed his mind.

"I'll see it," he decided. .

A weight seemed to lift from the headmaster.

"Excellent!" He cried, his usual buoyancy returning. "I had hoped you would agree to join us. Now, I am sure you've both heard rumors of an arrival at Hogwarts?"

The students nodded.

"I daresay the truth is even more unbelievable than the stories. You see, a young woman sent herself back in time. She appeared with a dead body in the middle of a charms lecture."

The students were too stoic, too _Slytherin_, to allow themselves anything other than raised brows.

"She performed an ancient blood ritual from the Middle East. Interestingly enough, she appeared in the same class as her future father."

Regulus slowly turned to Euphemia. "Sirius..."

"No. James, I'm afraid," she corrected. "Though she seems far more comfortable with your brother than her own father. I can only assume he died young….As you were meant to."

He stiffened as the words sunk in.

Severus eyed the headmaster carefully. "And what did she say of me? Why am I here?"

"She said that you are the greatest wizard of your generation."

Severus tensed, unwilling to believe that someone would acknowledge him in such a way.

"Who is she, exactly?" He demanded.

"Under Veritaserum, the girl revealed herself to be Holly Marie Potter, daughter of James Potter and Lily Evans. The war had been lost or was on the precipice. Matters were so dire that the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix voted to send one of their own back to prevent the war from happening altogether. Miss Potter offered up her memories with a set of conditions. You, Regulus, are one of them."

"But why?"

"For Sirius, I presume. She seems to love Sirius a great deal, and your brother loves you. She believes that your death will be postponed if you see all that is to happen. As for Severus, I believe she means to save and recruit you. However, that decision is your own to make.

"But where were we? Ah, conditions. The stipulation. Miss Potter claims that my arrogance cost us the war. She demands that someone accompany me to analyze her secrets. Who better for that position than three Slytherins?"

"You seem far too entertained by that, Albus," Euphemia noted drily.

"In all seriousness, I am delighted to have such a different perspective on these matters."

"So if we agree we'll be watching her memories in the Pensieve and discussing them after?" Regulus asked.

Dumbledore nodded in confirmation. "You understand the need for such a drastic measure as the Unbreakable Vow?"

"Yes, sir. Knowledge of the future is dangerous."

"Indeed it is, Regulus. I have already added the first memory into the pensieve. We need only touch one another and lean in."

Euphemia offered herself as a buffer for the men. Albus and Regulus gripped her elbows gently, Severus on his classmate's other side. The odd company hunkered over the stone basin and suddenly found themselves toppling into a cold rush of magic.

A cemetery alight with stars came into view. Gravestones covered the hills surrounding them. At their feet, a slender teenager scampered to her feet. Vivid green eyes took in the rolling hills, the innumerable tombstones. She breathed in once, twice, tightened her grip on her wand, and crouched against a statue.

"This trophy says the 'Triwizard Tournament'. What is that?" Regulus asked. He hunkered over a discarded golden cup.

"A competition between students of Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts that was banned long ago after many deaths," Dumbledore answered. "I cannot see myself agreeing to it unless I was pressured by the ministry."

A silver beast erupted from the girl's wand. Something canine, perhaps some obscure breed of dog.

"Remarkable," Dumbledore murmured.

Holly scrunched her face up in concentration. After reaching a decision, she twirled her wand at her Patronus.

"Sirius Black," she whispered, eyes darting around the graveyard. "Portkey cup. Beesy to hide when-"

But the Patronus had already disappeared. Holly gulped, then took a deep breath and stood. Her navy clothes were black in the night and her hair was as dark in the shadows. She might have been able to escape with stealth if it weren't for her pale skin.

"Wormtail," something croaked. Someone, maybe.

They watched as Holly's fear hardened into a frightful rage. Her eyes shone bright, the grip on her wand steadied. Her breathing, which had been erratic and heavy, slowed.

Peter Pettigrew slipped through two graves. He carried a bundle of dark fabric that nearly reached the ground. Holly didn't seem to notice. She couldn't stop staring at Peter.

"Master, it's the girl, only the girl." He licked his lips nervously. "The boy isn't here."

A harsh curse sounded from the dark cloth. "Very well. She will have to do."

Holly snarled, a red light flashed, and the memory shifted.


	4. Chapter 4

Thick ropes secured the girl to a tombstone. A piece of parchment hovered at her feet. Peter consulted it intermittently as he added ingredients to a large, bubbling cauldron. The wrapped thing lay silently in the wet grass.

Albus stepped closer to the cauldron with Severus. Euphemia followed his example and steered Regulus away from the..._thing_. Children, no matter how close to adulthood, should have to encounter the darkest parts life had to offer. The two of them watched as Holly wriggled against the tombstone in purposeful movements. She relaxed at whatever she found, slumping in her bonds to subject herself to whatever horror awaited. Checking for whatever backup weapons she had stowed away, Euphemia would bet.

The others care to study Holly as Peter finished the ritual. Euphemia knew what was going to happen, but she clenched her wand tight nonetheless as Peter approached with a goblin made dagger.

"Blood of the enemy, unwillingly given," he chanted.

Holly spat down into his face. He recoiled but did not relent. Cold fury filled Euphemia as he spilled her granddaughter's blood. It was nearly black in the night.

"I will kill you Wormtail," the girl swore. "I swear by all the blood of mine that you have shed that I will kill you."

Peter stumbled under the force of the blood oath, magic as old and dark as the ritual he had forced her into.

"And under a full moon," Regulus whispered, almost in awe.

"ENOUGH!" The thing in the grass croaked.

Peter hurried his movements. They became even more quick and frenzied. The bones of the father were retrieved messily and when he cried and his hand splashed into the cauldron, a cold, cruel laugh echoed through the cemetery.

"Pussy," Holly taunted.

Regulus choked.

Euphemia looked away when Pettigrew picked up the bundle. She clenched Regulus' shoulder, forcing him to stare at her granddaughter instead. There were too many horrible possibilities, too many things that another child should not have to see. He didn't need to know what sort of foul thing splashed in the cauldron.

Eventually, Holly's exhaustion morphed into a fear that was hardly human. Tears welled in her eyes, catching on her lashes.

"My wand, Wormtail,' a high, cold voice ordered.

Euphemia stared hard at her granddaughter, willing somehow for her presence to make itself known, willing against all sense and logic so that Holly knew she wasn't in this hell alone. Euphemia would hold her hand and brave the devil himself with her.

"Your arm," Voldemort ordered.

"Master is too kind," Peter sobbed.

"Your other arm, Wormtail."

Then, as Pettigrew screamed, Holly did something very odd. She whispered a name. Whispered it so quietly that it might have gone unnoticed if stray tendrils of her wild hair hadn't shifted.

Cracks sounded as towering robed figures appeared in the graveyard. Metal masks glinted under their hoods. Euphemia studied the Death Eater as they apparated to hovel at their master's feet. They formed a semicircle around him, leaving gaps for the deserters and the dead. The Dark Lord spoke many names, some of which Euphemia knew all too well. Regulus inhaled sharply when Bellatrix was revealed to be in Azkaban. She noticed, however, that Severus was not mentioned by name.

Malfoy fawned over his lord, asking about his miraculous return.

And so Euphemia heard it all. Heard how Peter- fucking Peter Pettigrew- betrayed her son, how her son and his wife were murdered, how her daughter in law's sacrifice saved her grandson, how that grandson had thwarted Voldemort three times because of that love.

And then Voldemort cast the torturing curse on Holly.

As her slender body crashed against the marble, a broken noise escaped Euphemia. Her chest cracked with the force of her fury. Albus clutched her close, whispering sensical sentiments in her ear.

Holly was tortured again. And again.

She did not scream. Blood trickled from a bit tongue, she grunted and moaned, tears fell down her face, but she did not scream.

"Silence!" Voldemort ordered.

The Death Eater's laughter stopped.

He tilted his head and twirled his wand in his long, long fingers as he regarded Holly. Euphemia shivered under his scarlet gaze.

"You have impressed Lord Voldemort, Holly Potter. Your strength is shadowed by your brother's fame. Many Death Eaters could not have resisted Lord Voldemort's cruciatus so well."

Holly spat a glob of blood onto the ground.

"Wonder how Wormtail will hold up under mine," she said sluggishly.

Voldemort let out a loud cackle of laughter. "And your bloodlust is genuine! Lord Voldemort can see all the things you feel, all the things you know. Nott!"

One of the robed figures stepped forward and kneeled. "Yes, my lord."

The dark lord spoke without breaking eye contact with his prisoner. "Her mind shows that your son is a promising young man. Your family is to be rewarded. Lord Voldemort rewards his loyal followers...and, _oh_, how I will reward Severus…."

A young Severus twitched. His long face paled until it turned as white as bone.

"I wondered how you came to be here instead of your brother. I planned so well to have his corpse at my feet tonight. Alas, I underestimated your ambition." Holly didn't answer. She just worked on getting more blood out of her mouth. He turned back to his cult of sycophants. Louder, he boomed, "Your Lord has made a mistake. Yes, even Lord Voldemort is not infallible. Harry Potter will not die at my hands tonight. His sister unwittingly postponed his death." Voldemort continued softly so that even Euphemia and her cohorts had to lean closer. "Months of planning were thwarted by a girl's ambition. While her brother and Diggory were arguing why the other should take the cup, Holly Potter disillusioned herself to snatch it from under their very noses. Oh, their faces were amusing to behold."

He waved his wand. The ropes snapped and Holly crashed to the ground. She rose on trembling legs, snapping her wrists to restore the blood flow.

"Wormtail, her wand. Lord Voldemort is merciful. Holly Potter will be given the chance to die in combat as her fool of a father should have."

_His wand_, Euphema realized. _James always leaves his wand lying around. I will kill that boy myself. _

Holly accepted her wand, but not before kicking at Wormtail. She missed her target, but her glittering boots -how she had managed to sneak past anyone with such ridiculous boots was beyond Euphemia- struck Wormtail's thigh hard enough to bruise.

"Enough, girl!" Voldemort spat. "Has Dumbledore taught you to duel?"

Severus inhaled sharply behind them. Euphemia wavered. This monster must have defeated Dumbledore in the future. How could a teenage girl survive against him?

Holly did not seem to share their concerns. She gripped her wand tightly as she strode forward, head high. The Death Eaters encircled them, the girl and the monster. She bowed to her opponent too hastily for protocol. Voldemort gave his own sorry excuse for one in return.

"Do you know what my wand is made of?" Holly asked rather suddenly.

The Dark Lord paused. He decided to humor the girl he would soon kill.

"No," he said, sounding amused.

She gazed at the dark wood in her hands lovingly. "I told Ollivander I didn't want one his bullshit three cores. I wanted to be special. He only had twelve, I think. This one chose me: english wood oak with rougarou hair."

Voldemort's snakelike face split into a grin. "An excellent wand for the dark arts, Holly Potter. It will serve me well."

She spat more blood on the grass. "Just don't let Wormtail have it."  
Voldemort cocked his head to the side. "Lord Voldemort will grant your dying wish. Any last words, Miss Potter?"

"You used to be fit, Tom. It's a shame I'll have to die looking at a face like that instead of your old one."

Voldemort snarled, raised his arm. The girl did the same.

Several things happened at once. An inhuman voice screamed out the killing curse. Another deeper, raspier one yelled out his own. Two jets of green light met and exploded. A girl's voice rang out louder than either of them.

"EXTA EXACTIO!" Holly bellowed, moving her wand in a complicated hooking movement.

Behind Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew shrieked and collapsed on the ground just as a sick squelch interrupted all of the screams. His body exploded. Long, thick, ringling pink cords flailed from his torso . He screamed and cried and screamed even as he suddenly disappeared. Only blood stained grass remained.

"FUCK!" The deep voice barked. "TO THE CUP, HOLLY. BACK TO THE CUP."  
Sirius Black materialized out of thin air. He looked horrible, like a corpse brought back to life. His wand whipped back and forth as he slowly backed away in an attempt to reach a gravestone for cover.

Holly did not obey. She practically shoved her back against his. The night exploded with color, the green of death most among them all. She did her best to ward off the approaching Death Eaters while Sirius attempted to fight back against the Dark Lord.

Voldemort screamed something Euphemia couldn't catch, something about 'mine', but before his soldiers could obey, another crack echoed through the battlefield.

"No fucking way," Regulus said.

Euphemia followed his line of sight. A skinny, scared house-elf had appeared beside Holly and Sirius.

Beesy! Beesy to hide, Holly had said. And the name she had whispered. Beesy.

The last thing any of them heard was Voldemort's infuriated screech as a little house elf ruined his plans.

The graveyard shifted itself into the headmaster's office. A haggard Sirius Black reeled backwards, catching himself on a table. Several instruments clattered to the ground. Holly and the house elf collapsed where they stood.

"YOU IDIOT GIRL!" Sirius bellowed.

She flinched as he threw himself forward and pried her wand out of her stiff fingers. He immediately began waving it around, absentmindedly casting spells. Several scorches appeared on the floor as he did so.

He threw his head back and roared, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!"

Euphemia thought he might be yelling at the heavens, but several of the portraits lining the domed ceiling suddenly cleared.

"Son, what has happened?" Philleus Nigelus Black's portrait asked.

Sirius barked out a harsh laugh. "I just dueled the fucking dark lord is what has happened."

"He's back?!" A former headmistress gasped.

"Yes, he's back. Are they near?"

"Wh-what are you doing?" Holly interrupted.

He glanced down. All of her emotions had melted into utter exhaustion. She seemed to be holding herself up on the house elf as much as comforting the pitiful creature.

"Clearing your wand since you're a FUCKING IDIOT!"

A particularly brutal stunner chipped away at the hardwood.

"I'M AN IDIOT?!" She shoved the house elf away. "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TRIED TO TAKE ON VOLDEMORT!"

"TO GET YOU OUT! WHY DID SHE TAKE PETER, HOLLY? WHY DID BEESY TAKE PETER INSTEAD OF YOU?"

"YOU WERE DUELING WITH FUCKING VOLDEMORT! YOU WOULD HAVE DIED, SIRIUS! HE WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU! OR WORSE!"

"I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE TO THE CUP, NOT WENT AFTER PETER!"

"BULLSHIT! YOURE JUST PISSED BECAUSE I GOT-"

"JAMES AND LILY DID NOT DIE FOR YOU TO GET YOURSELF KILLED OVER A FUCKING RAT!"

Something crashed, causing them to jump into action. Sirius pushed Holly behind himself. The elf apparated to stand in front of her as well, hands raised to call up her own magic. An Albus Dumbledore with a longer beard and heavily lined face strode into the room. He pointed his wand at Sirius.

"How did James take his eggs?" He demanded.

"Poached, except for with bangers. What was his cat named?"

"Minnie, to Minerva's consternation."

The men lowered their wands. A skinny boy with messy hair shoved past both of them.

"Holly!" He cried, wrapping his twin in a bone-crushing hug.

A towering, hook nosed man hurried into the room. Severus stared at the older version of himself. Time had done nothing to improve his looks, but it had given him a certain gravitas that demanded attention.

"Albus, he's back," Snape was saying desperately.

Dumbledore's lips thinned. He looked back at Sirius.

"Is this true?"

Sirius nodded.

"How? What happened?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there for it all."

"I couldn't call for Beesy until…" Holly took a shuddering breath. "Until h-he summoned his followers."

"She needs the medical wing, Dumbledore. She was crucioed three times by Voldemort himself."

Dumbledore ignored him. He looked from the wand in Sirius's hand to Holly and back again, piecing something together.

Another man, this time in pinstriped robes, skidded to a halt in the doorway.

"It's Pettigrew, Dumbledore. It was him, alright. Or what's- BLOODY HELL IT'S SIRIUS BLACK!"

"Minister-"

"Oh no." Euphemia gasped. Why in Merlin's name was Cornelius Fudge minister of magic? And during a war!

"A Sirius Black who is obviously innocent, Cornelius, if Pettigrew was delivered to us tonight. None of that matters now. Voldemort has returned."

Fudge paled. "N-no. It's n-n-not possible. He's dead. He died thirteen years ago."

"I fought him tonight, you bloody fool! He's as alive as you or me."

The minister cowered away from the manic convict. "Now, see here, Black-"

"You see here _Cornelius._ I was never given a trial. I did not spend twelve years in Azkaban and the one after EATING RATS AND THEN DUEL WITH FUCKING VOLDEMORT TONIGHT TO DEAL WITH YOUR-"

"HE TOOK MY BLOOD!" Holly screamed, her voice cracking. She jerked up her sleeve to reveal a deep, scabbing cut. "There was some kind of ritual. H-he needed the bones of the father, the hand of the servant, and the blood of the enemy. He came back. He looks...h-he-he looks like a snake."

Her twin squeezed her hand so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"You've been through an ordeal, young lady-" Fudge tried.

Snape snarled. He ripped his own sleeve back. The Dark Mark pulsated on his forearm. Everyone, even Euphemia and her colleagues, flinched.

"It appeared not a half hour ago. It hasn't appeared-"

"What sort of show have you got going on here, Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded. "Murderers and Death Eaters in Hogwarts!"

Holly shoved her way past Snape. The professor stared down at her in distaste, affronted that anyone would dare touch him.

"There's only one criminal in this room, Minister. I killed Pet-"

Snape grabbed her by the back of the neck and shoved her away.

"I'm afraid the girl is delirious. An ordeal. She doesn't know what she's talking about. POTTER! Take your sister to the hospital wing, NOW!"

The room swirled and Euphemia was forced into that cold rush of magic once more.

The four of them landed back in the office. Euphemia immediately collapsed onto the nearest chair. The room was emptier without the haze of war and death clouding their senses. The sun had faded away to dusk. Candles sprang to life with a halfhearted flick of Albus's wand. She sometimes wondered if he truly need his wand outside of combat.

"That was...it was...was it even real? Could she have tampered with it or lied?" Regulus threw his hands about as he spoke, too caught up in adrenaline to be the perfect pureblood.

Albus sunk down into his own chair. His eyes narrowed as he mulled it over.

"It is possible, but I am positive that the memory is genuine. Tampered or false memories are not quite so vivid. Even the most talented Occlumens cannot forge a perfect memory for a pensieve."

"Is she an Occlumens?" Severus asked.

"Yes. I could have broken her shields, I think, if her magic were not compensating for the disastrous situation her mind had found itself in."

"What do you mean?" Euphemia asked.

"I mean," Dumbledore said heavily, "that on top of leaving behind everyone she cared for in her timeline, she killed her friend, the one she called brother, to activate the portal."

Euphemia inhaled sharply.

"I had not wanted it to be true, but how she dealt with Peter Pettigrew confirmed my suspicions."

"It is one thing to kill for revenge and another to save wizarding Britain!" She snapped.

"Of course Euphemia, but everyone in this room is well versed in dark magic. We all know it is easier for someone who has already spilled blood to do so again."

"Do you think she killed before Pettigrew?" Regulus wondered.

"No." Severus answered. Everyone turned to look at him. He disguised his discomfort with haughtiness as he elaborated. "She was on the verge of a mental breakdown. I study Legilimency. It is more than reading the mind."

"What I would like to know," Euphemia hissed through her teeth, "is why she was there in the first place? Why would she be in the tournament? Why is Voldemort so fixated on my grandchildren?!"

"Peace, Euphemia. I do not know any more than you. We are all seeing this for the first time."

"Then take us back. Take us back to the start, to where it all began."

"I cannot do that until we sort out the problem of our young guests."

She rounded on Severus and Regulus.

Regulus raised his hands placatingly. "I'm in. The House of Black does not grovel to madmen, no matter how impressive his magical knowledge may be. I will not put the fate of my family in that thing's hands. _That being said,_ I cannot support you, Albus. Whatever happened, my brother was sent to Azkaban without a trial. I have duties as an heir, and no matter what my mother says, Sirius is my brother."

She didn't particularly care about Regulus and his reason. Her attention snapped to Severus. He sneered nastily.

"My reasons are my own."

It was enough for her. She tapped her wand against the pensieve impatiently, nearly throwing herself into the swirling mist of memories that appeared.


End file.
